


Push You Over The Edge (So I Can Pull You Back)

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Butt Plugs, Come Fetish, Comeplay, Facials, Fingering, Heavy D/s elements, Holy Fucking Shit, I think I got everything, I would say this is PWP but there's sort of a plot?, M/M, Mentions of sub!drop, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Restraints, Subspace, collaring, gagging, oh yeah i forgot, other guys mentioned only briefly tbh, who am I kidding this is nothing but porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s after a long two weeks of interviews and non-stop appearances that have got Harry stressed to the limit of yanking his hair out and throwing a fit and crying that Louis shows it to him, walks in the door with a sleek black bag in his left hand and inconspicuous brown one in his right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push You Over The Edge (So I Can Pull You Back)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Tumblr user harrythighles after seeing the tags she had a post about that lovely little interview where Harry happily relayed how he spent 'two days on his hands and knees.'
> 
> There are heavy D/s elements to this, so if that squicks you, please leave.
> 
> P.S. I'd love for you all to follow me on Tumblr, I take requests :) @ tomlinsuhhn

It’s after a long two weeks of interviews and non-stop appearances that have got Harry stressed to the limit of yanking his hair out and throwing a fit and crying that Louis shows it to him, walks in the door with a sleek black bag in his left hand and inconspicuous brown one in his right. He throws the black bag to Harry where he’s sitting on the love seat in their flat, curled up under a huge fluffy blanket with some program he’s not even paying any mind to on the telly.

“What’s this, Lou?” Harry asks, not bothering to pull his arms from the blanket to open the bag because he’s much too comfortable. Louis just snorts at him, flopping down onto the sofa next to him. “Open it,” he commands, and Harry doesn’t hesitate a moment before he’s pulling one arm free from where it’s tangled in the blanket, teasing the seam of the bag before delving his hands inside, fingers closing around the contents.

Harry pulls his hand from the bag and his eyes widen. “Lou,” he breathes and Louis laughs airily next to him.

“You like it?” Louis smirks and Harry can do nothing but gape at him and tighten his fingers around the black leather collar in his hand.

“I- Lou, why?” Harry asks and his voice is raspy already. Delicious.

“You’ve been so stressed,” Louis explains. He reaches up, drawing his fingers across Harry’s bared collarbones, basking in the beautiful hitch of Harry’s breath.

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, teething on it, scrutinized under the intensity of Louis’ gaze. The collar feels heavy in his hand, weighted with implications, and it takes Harry but a second to decide that he wants to find out all of them.

“Yeah?” Harry murmurs and Louis can feel the pounding of Harry’s heart under where he’s pressed his palm to Harry’s chest.

“Mmm, yeah,” Louis says, curling his hand into a fist and tapping it lightly against Harry’s neck and Harry doesn’t fail to notice that, if he’d put it on, Louis’d be tapping over right where the collar would sit. “I got you something else,” Louis murmurs, leaning in to let his lips graze Harry’s tight jaw.

“Whassit?” Harry slurs and Louis grins wickedly against his skin. “It’s a surprise,” Louis says and Harry whines dejectedly. ”Shh, you’ll find out when we go to bed, love.”

“Can we go now?” Harry asks, only then realizing how embarrassingly desperate he sounds already. Louis chuckles darkly, pulling away from the crook of Harry’s lovely neck.

“S’only eight o’clock, love,” he says and Harry whimpers because he just  _wants_. “Tell ya what,” Louis says, reaching over and sliding the collar out from Harry’s greedy fingers. “We’ll put this on you and you can stay up with me until ten, and then we can go to bed, alright? Sound good?”

Harry doesn’t reply, just stares at the collar in Louis’ hands with blown eyes, and that’s permission enough.

Louis opens the clasp of the collar, fingering the leather just to watch the way Harry parts his lips. The collar itself isn’t anything too flashy, just plain black leather with a metal clasp that glints in the light when Louis turns it over in his hands.

“Please,” Harry whimpers so quietly that Louis almost misses it.

“M’sorry baby, what was that?” Louis presses. “I didn’t quite catch it.” Harry looks almost frantic, eyes darting from Louis to the collar then back to Louis, over and over like he’s not sure what he wants more.

“Please,” he repeats, louder this time.

“Please what?” Louis teases.

“Please, put it on me,” Harry’s voice breaks deliciously on the last word and Louis decides he’s worked up enough for now, doesn’t want to wind him up too much before he gets to what he’s got planned for Harry for the next two days.

“C’mere, Haz,” Louis orders and Harry scrambles over as quickly as he can while he’s still tangled up in the blanket. Louis smirks at his eagerness but the expression falls when Harry tips his head back and bares his throat and all Louis wants to do is mark the pale, pale skin, scatter it with marks over marks that scream  _mine_. Instead, he settles for wrapping the collar around Harry’s neck and snapping the clasp shut, basking in the way Harry shudders bodily when it’s on.

“You like that?” Louis asks, running his index finger over where the leather meets the soft skin of Harry’s throat. It fits snugly, better than Louis thought it would, and it’s absolutely wonderful. Harry just nods, pupils blown, and Louis can’t help but feel a bit smug at how blissed-out Harry looks already, and they haven’t even gotten to the good stuff.

Harry’s been so stressed for the past two weeks, hating the way the band’s been shuffled to interview to interview and event to performance to event, and it’s not been hard for Louis to catch the telltale signs that Harry’s close to an epic drop. It’s only happened once before, on the American leg of the tour, when Zayn’d had to leave them to go back home when he had that death in the family. Harry’d been so worried, so nervous that they were going to disappoint everybody because they didn’t sound as good as they usually did without Zayn, they weren't One Direction without  _Zayn,_  and that very first concert without him he’d stumbled on his solo during What Makes You Beautiful. It'd been a stumble so minor Louis doubted anybody even caught it, but it was enough to drive Harry into a full-blown anxiety attack when the concert had ended.

Harry had completely fallen apart backstage, crumbling to his knees crying and screaming, yanking on his curls, curled up in a ball in the corner. He’d been beyond reason, babbling nonsensically about how he’d ruined everything, about how he shouldn’t even be in the band, and not even Liam, with his soothing words and soft hand, had been able to calm him down.

It’d taken Louis, with a hand in Harry’s curls and another around his throat, murmuring into his ear, telling him he was perfect and beautiful and so, so talented and nobody was angry with him to get Harry to calm down enough to get into the SUV that would take them back to the hotel without causing scene. And after, when they’d finally gotten to the hotel and Louis had Harry alone in his room, he’d held Harry down and laved over every inch of Harry’s body, fucking him over and over and over again and he hadn’t let Harry come until the very end of it, and when they were done, Harry was panting and shaking and a lovely kind of pliant, and he’d been floating along in a delicious sort of subspace for two or three days after, every stress that’d caused the horrible panic attack gone and forgotten about.

Louis can see Harry already starting to go under now, can see the bliss on Harry’s face as he stares absently at the telly, wrapped now in both his blanket and Louis’ arms. He looks like a child, almost, with the way he’s curled up like this, all wide eyes and ruby lips, hanging on every shift of Louis' body. 

The two hours from eight to ten pass by so quickly, spent with Harry breathing evenly, hitching every so often when Louis presses his fingers against the line of the collar again. They’ve changed the channel to an American one that’s playing a marathon of  _Friends_ , Louis laughing along while Harry just stays obediently silent against him.

Harry only moves when ten o’clock rolls around, twisting in Louis’ arms, wide green eyes looking up at him and that fucking  _collar._  Louis doesn’t even need Harry to speak before he’s fishing him out of the tangle of the blanket and yanking him to his feet, tugging him through the flat until they get into their bedroom.

Louis pushes Harry down onto the bed before he realizes he’d left the bag he needed sitting on the couch, leaving Harry to wait sprawled out on the duvet while he goes to get it.

Harry stays, laying flat on his back, thumbing absentmindedly over the line of the collar. He feels unexplainable, emotions bubbling up inside him that he can’t really put his finger on, feels like the collar is both bringing them up and holding them down and it’s a weird sort of vertigo. Harry doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

The door to the bedroom opens again and Louis traipses back inside, a smug look on his sharp face. He raises the bag along with an eyebrow and Harry makes grabby hands at him, beckoning him over.

Louis makes a tutting sound, shaking his head. “What do we say, Hazza?”

“Please,” Harry says, quick like a reflex.

“There we go,” Louis praises, sidling up to the bed and urging Harry to sit up, back against the pillows at the headboard. “Close your eyes and cup your hands, darling,” Louis orders and Harry does just that.

Louis grins wickedly, digging into the bag and pulling out what's inside. He sets it in Harry’s hands and Harry’s brow furrows. “Open,” Louis says, watching Harry’s face as his eyes flutter open.

And his reaction is better than Louis’d thought it’d be.

Harry’s jaw drops open, hands clenching around the thick, smooth, black plug, giving a little whimper and looking up to Louis for guidance. “For me?” He asks and Louis can’t help but laugh because who else would it be for?

“Of course,” Louis says, brushing stray curls away from Harry’s face and tucking them behind his pretty little elf ears. He thinks for a moment that Harry looks a bit like a schoolgirl but he shakes the thought off, saving it for later.

“You’re going to plug me?” Harry asks and his voice shakes as he speaks.

“Yeah, baby, I am,” Louis licks his lip, running his hand up Harry’s thigh and admiring the way the muscles jump under his touch.”But first, you’re going to suck me until I’m close, and then I’m going to come inside you and  _then_ plug you up so you can keep it all inside. ‘Cause I know how much you fucking love that, yeah?”

Harry gasps and his hips buck up a bit because God  _fucking yes_ , Harry  _does_  love that. He loves the way it feels when Louis comes inside him, loves the wetness, the heat, the feeling of being claimed and marked and owned. He loves how Louis will stay inside of him until he’s completely soft, but he hates the way it’s still never enough because Harry still wants to hold it inside him, and he can’t help but feel a little lost when it all starts to drip out down his thighs.

And now Louis’ gotten him a plug, given him a way to keep everything up inside for as long as he wants and it’s wonderful, so fucking wonderful.

“I want it,” Harry rasps, begging already. Louis’ still got his hand on Harry’s thigh, just feeling the muscles tense, viciously teasing. Harry’s going to have to get used to waiting, though, if what Louis’ got planned is going to work. Harry’s good at holding himself off but Louis can’t help but wonder if Harry’s good enough for this, and  _fuck_ , he cannot wait to find out.

“Strip then,” Louis orders, sliding his palm from Harry’s thigh and Harry doesn’t hesitate a second before he’s rushing to get his kit off, knowing if he takes too long, Louis will be unhappy.

Louis watches Harry strip with dark eyes, hungrier with every bit of pale skin that Harry exposes. Harry’s wearing only a tee and sweatpants, and Louis can’t help but give a little growl when Harry tugs his sweats down and it’s made known that he’s not wearing any pants underneath.

“No pants, Harry?” Louis deadpans and Harry freezes, hands clenched around where he’s holding onto his sweats. “Were you expecting something? Some _one_?”

“N-no, Lou, I -” Harry tries but Louis cuts him off, yanking his sweats from his hands.

“What have I told you about being greedy, Harry?” Louis questions. Harry’s got that frantic look in his eyes again, desperation making him grab at the sheets and bite his lip and Louis can’t help but think that this weekend is going to be absolutely splendid.

“I wasn’t being greedy, I swear,” Harry promises and Louis can see he’s genuine, but Louis’ point right now is not forgiveness. He doesn’t want Harry to be comfortable; he wants him nervous and squirming and unable to predict what Louis’ going to do to him next, just the way Louis likes him.

Louis’ really not doing it for his own benefit, honestly. He knows this is what Harry needs, needs all of his control stripped away, and Louis more than willing to do it for him. He loves Harry  _so fucking much_  and it physically pains him to see Harry so stressed, so he’s going to do everything he possibly can to make Harry give up control, make Harry fall completely under his mercy, and finally, finally relax.

“I really don’t believe you, Harry,” Louis tuts, shaking his head. “I think you were just waiting for anyone to come along and find you, sitting alone without any pants on like some cheap whore. Was that it, Harry? Were you waiting for any random bloke to come around and fuck you? Maybe Zayn? I’ve seen the way you look at him, Haz.” Louis knows it’s absolutely ridiculous, knows Harry would never, but the way Harry’s twitching and shaking his head and clenching his fists into the sheets is too delicious for Louis to stop.

“No, no,” Harry whines, eyes glazed as he looks desperately to Louis, searching his face for any signs of forgiveness. Luckily for Louis he’s always been a magnificent actor and his pokerface is absolutely foolproof. Harry’s not going to see anything, not unless Louis wants him to. “It was for you.”

Harry’s voice is so meek and so small and Louis can’t help but give him a little smile, reaching out to stroke a hand over Harry’s hot cheek. “For me, hmm?”

“Yes,” Harry blurts. “I was - I was gonna surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Louis intones, interest peaked. He wonders for a fleeting moment if Harry really was planning to surprise him or if he’s just falling into his submissive little headspace, but then Harry’s turning on the bed and pawing at Louis’ thighs and Louis completely shoves the thought out of his mind.

“Y-yeah,” Harry breathes, gripping the fabric of Louis’ trousers in his hands. “When you came home, was gonna show you and then suck you off, and ask you to fuck me -“

Harry’s cut off when Louis slots their lips together, yanking Harry onto his lap. Harry goes with a whimper of satisfaction, hips twitching with the way he’s trying to hold himself back from grinding down onto Louis. He can feel the line of Louis’ cock, half-hard against his arse and he wants it, wants it in his mouth, hot and heavy on his tongue and then he wants it inside him, filling him up and stuffing him full of come.

Fingers trail across the smooth skin of Harry’s arse, pausing for a moment before drifting into the crack of it, pressing at his hole and Harry freezes.  _No, no, no -_

“Harry.” Louis says and Harry flinches at the coldness in his voice. “Harry, can you please explain to me what I’m feeling, here?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, drawing in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Lou, I’m so sorry, I didn’t -“

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” Louis barks. “I asked for an explanation, and I expect you to give me one.”

Harry’s hands flop uselessly against Louis’ thighs, unsure where to go. “I touched myself, Lou, I’m sorry. It was going to be part of the surprise, was gonna be all open for you already -“

“Did you come?” Louis cuts Harry off and Harry stills again, dead silent. The silence beats on for a minute, two, three, before Harry speaks and even then, Louis barely catches it.

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry whispers dejectedly. “I didn’t want to but it just felt so good and I was thinking of you and I just - I’m sorry.”

Louis makes a tsk-ing sound, flicking his tongue along the fronts of his teeth. “Well Haz, tell ya what,” Louis taps his fingers against Harry’s hole just to feel the muscle clench greedily. “I’m not going to punish you, but since you already came once today without my permission, I’m not going to let you come again until I say so, understand? And now, you’re going to let me fuck your mouth.”

Harry nods, a quick bob of the head, happy he’s not going to be punished. Louis stares at him expectantly and Harry sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Well?” Louis raises an eyebrow, having to bite back a snort at the way Harry rolls off him and scrabbles down his body, hands crawling up his legs to get to his flies, popping the button on his trousers and drawing the zipper down.

Louis smacks Harry’s hands away, looping his thumbs under the waistband of his trousers and pants, raising his hips and yanking them down his hips to mid-thigh, nodding at Harry. Harry drags them the rest of the way off, down his calves and over his ankles, tossing them haphazardly to the floor. His cock lays hot and hard against his abdomen, smearing against his navy blue tee.

Harry makes a move to settle in between Louis’ thighs, hungry eyes locked on the arch of Louis’ cock between them. Louis’ got a hand in his hair before Harry can get in place and Harry whines. “That’s not how you’re going to do it,” Louis says. “On your back, Harry. Hands above your head.”

Harry swallows hard, mind going a little foggy as he rolls away from Louis, onto his back. Louis pets over Harry’s belly in praise, and Harry purrs a bit at the affection.

Once Harry’s settled, Louis presses a kiss right smack in the center of his chest before he moves to straddle it, thighs bracketing Harry’s ribcage. Harry’s pupils are blown so wide, only tiny slivers of green visible and it reminds Louis of an eclipse, absolutely beautiful.

Louis grips the base of his cock in one hand and tangles Harry’s wrists up above his head in the other, tapping his cock head against Harry’s pouty, cherry-red lips. Harry doesn’t open though, not until Louis says so, and Louis can’t help the surge of affection that floods through him. “Open, baby,” Louis rasps and Harry does, lips parting to let Louis push his cock inside.

Louis’ not gentle, not at all, grunting and tightening his grip on Harry’s wrists as his hips surge forward, fucking Harry’s mouth like he’s angry with it, hips hitching every time Harry gags.

It’s not long until Louis’ close to coming - a tight, hot coil tightening in his gut. He pulls out from between Harry’s lips and Harry gasps desperately for air, a thin string of spit connecting the tip of Louis’ cock to Harry’s swollen bottom lip.

Louis moves quickly then, sliding down Harry’s body and hitching Harry’s legs up over his shoulders. Harry gasps again Louis’ slick length bumps his hole, and Harry’s hands tighten into fists above his head in anticipation.

There’s that first tight push before Louis’ sinking in deep, groaning at the friction. He thinks for a second perhaps he should have given Harry a little more prep, but he brushes the thought off because Harry’s panting and mewling underneath him, and Louis just wants to fucking come.

Louis fucks Harry’s arse like he fucked his mouth - rough and fast, chasing his release. He knows he should probably be more concerned about whether or not it feels good to Harry, but it’s not meant to feel good for Harry, not yet. Louis’ saving that for tomorrow.

When Louis comes it’s with a low groan that’s overshadowed by Harry’s high-pitched keening and Louis has to stifle a laugh against Harry’s sweaty shoulder. He can still feel Harry’s cock hard and throbbing against his stomach, thinking offhandedly about how it’s probably smearing precum all over his shirt.

“Where’d you put the plug, Hazza?” Louis asks and Harry’s arm falls from above his head to scrabble at the far side of the bed, and when he brings it back, he’s got the plug in hand. Louis takes it from Harry’s hand with a kiss to his knuckles. “Grab me the lube, too.”

Harry nods obediently, opening the bedside drawer and fishing around until his fingers close around the nearly-empty bottle of lube and Louis’ suddenly very glad he’d thought to buy another while he’d been out.

Louis takes the bottle from Harry - who’s laying with his legs still over Louis’ shoulders and managing to look like some perverse, fucked-out kitten and he’s still so hard, still throbbing against Louis’ stomach - and pops the cap, smearing what’s left inside all over the plug, slicking it up until he feel it’s sufficient. Harry watches him with hungry eyes.

“You want this?” Louis teases, waving the plug in front of Harry’s face. “Want me to plug you up so you can keep all my come inside? You’re so fucking dirty, Harry.”

“I’m so dirty, yeah,” Harry breathes and he probably has no idea what he’s even saying anymore. “Want to keep it all inside. Want you to plug me up, Lou, please.”

“Shh,” Louis coos, easing his cock out from Harry’s body. Harry whines a bit but otherwise doesn’t react, not even when Louis presses the tapered tip of the plug against his puffy hole. “Got you,” Louis murmurs and then he’s pressing the plug inside.

Harry definitely reacts to  _that_ , arching his back and giving this slutty little mewl that has Louis’ cock twitching again in interest even though he’d just come not five minutes ago. Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his lips fall open, body stretching so perfectly around the girth of the plug.

It’s quite the stretch to get the plug inside, but once it’s in it fits snug and perfect, settling against Harry’s prostate in a constant pressure. The flared base keeps it locked in place, and Harry clenches experimentally around it. It feels a bit abnormal, thicker than Harry’s used to, but it feels good, knowing that the plug is keeping Louis’ come all locked up inside him, and he loves it.

Harry gives a contented little sigh, planning on rolling into Louis and snuggling up into his chest, and his brow furrows when he realizes that Louis’ not in bed with him anymore. His eyes flicker open just in time to see Louis wandering back from the closet with a pair of briefs back over his lower half and twirling their pair of fuzzy black handcuffs around his index finger.

Louis climbs back in bed with a wicked grin and an “On your stomach, love,” and when Harry complies, Louis gathers his wrists up behind his back, cuffing them with a satisfying snap. Harry’s whole body turns to jello in the sheets.

Satisfied, Louis rolls Harry onto his side and settles him in the pillows, throwing the duvet up and over his naked body. Harry watches him with a blank look as he sheds his shirt and climbs into bed next to Harry’s pliant body, pulling Harry in tight to his chest. “Sleep now, love,” Louis coos. Harry gives a huge yawn against his chest, letting his eyes fall closed.

He’s out in minutes, and Louis wraps him up tighter. He lets one hand drift down the smooth plane of Harry’s back to the swell of his arse, fingers dipping between the cheeks to gently tap the flared base of the plug, as if to assure himself that it’s still there. Harry whines a little in his sleep.

Louis pulls his hand from the crack of Harry’s arse and sets it on his slim hip, gripping loosely. He lets his own eyes fall closed and matches his breathing to Harry’s own, and he feels himself begin to drift off.

He’s got everything planned for tomorrow down to the tee and the assurance that everything’s going to go smoothly is what finally gets him to relax, drifting off with Harry in his arms.

x

When Louis wakes up, it’s eerily quiet. Normally there’d be the sound of that slight nose whistle Harry gets when he sleeps, or the sound of him fidgeting against the sheets. But there’s nothing, nothing Louis can hear right out, and if he’s honest, it frightens him. Harry’s still bundled up in his arms, though, and that offers him some reassurance.

Louis cracks one eye open, squinting against the harsh morning light flooding in through the windows. He blinks a bit before opening his other eye, letting that one adjust as well.

Harry gives a small, needy noise and Louis looks down at him, and his breath catches a bit at what he sees.

Harry’s closed in on himself like a scared kitten, eyes wild and lips bitten red, like he’s been gnawing on them like he does when he gets anxious. His curls are matted to his forehead with sweat, and he’s holding himself as still as he possibly can. Louis turns towards him a bit and Harry lets out a strangled little moan, and it’s then that Louis feels the hard, hot line of Harry’s cock against his hip. He’s still wearing the collar, the leather a stark contrast against the flush of Harry’s skin, and he’s still cuffed, arms straining in the position they’re locked in. Louis thinks he looks absolutely gorgeous.

“Haz, baby?” Louis murmurs and Harry snuffs.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes. His voice is raspy and shot and Louis shudders. He’s not even done anything to Harry and Harry’s already in this state, all drawn-up and tense and beautiful, and Louis adores it.

“Don’t apologize,” Louis brushes a hand though Harry’s unruly curls. “Just tell me why, yeah?”

Harry sniffles, nodding. His forehead wrinkles in disdain and Louis reaches up to smooth the lines away with his fingertips, and Harry gives a tiny, contented sigh. “S’the plug,” Harry says, voice low and shaky.

“Oh?” Louis perks up, interested now. “Rubbing you all the right ways, hmm, kitten?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, voice stuttering. “S’making me so hard,” he confesses, “But I didn’t touch, Lou. I didn’t touch, I swear -“

“Course you didn’t touch, baby. You’re all cuffed up.” Louis leans in to press a quick kiss to Harry’s sweaty forehead. He pulls away, slithering out of bed, stretching bodily once his feet are planted on the floor. Harry’s still laying stock-still on the bed, watching with weary eyes. “Coming, Haz?”

It’s almost comical how quickly Harry leaps up and out of bed, wincing when the plug shifts inside of him. His cock bobs thick and hard and red between his thighs.

Louis’ walking towards the door without even a glance back to check if Harry’s following, and Harry knows it’s because Harry  _always_  follows, every time Louis tells him to. It feels awkward and unnatural for Harry to walk with the plug and his erection, and he finds himself moreso waddling than walking as he makes his way into the living room, where Louis has already thrown himself haphazardly onto the sofa.

Harry stands awkwardly in the center of the room, not quite sure what to do with himself. Louis’ not giving him any direction - just staring at him from where he sits, eyebrow quirked and lips pursed in thinking.

“Come on, then,” Louis says, holding out a hand and ushering Harry forward. Harry shuffles up to him, licking his lips when Louis’ hands close over his slender hips. “Straddle me, love,” Louis murmurs and Harry complies, slithering onto Louis’ lap with a grace he didn’t know he was actually capable of. He can feel Louis’ cock under his arse, hot and hard and he craves it.

Louis’ fingers trace the tender swell of Harry’s hips and arse, and Harry shudders, dropping his head into the crook of Louis’ neck. “What are you gonna do to me?” Harry asks, voice small.

“Can’t you guess, kitten?” Louis murmurs.

“Are y’gonna fuck me?” Harry muses, nuzzling into the skin of Louis’ neck.

“So smart,” Louis coos. He lets his hand drift down to the cleft of Harry’s arse and taps the base of the plug with two fingers. Harry gasps, rolling his hips into the sensation, catching himself when Louis makes a tsking noise in the back of his throat. “Be still for me,” Louis whispers and then he’s gripping the plug and pulling it from Harry’s body with an obscene sucking noise. He slips three fingers inside in place of the plug and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to stay motionless.

Louis fingers Harry gently, not needing to stretch him much due to the girth of the plug having kept him nice and open. Harry’s stiff in his arms but his rim is loose and pliant; he’s still so tight on the inside, and Louis licks his lips, wanting.

Dropping the hand he'd kept on Harry's hip, Louis reaches down to yank his briefs down over his hips, his cock springing free. It slaps against his stomach with a meaty sound and Louis watches Harry's eyes snap open, staring wantonly at the thick cock straining against Louis' tummy.

"Lou," Harry breathes and Louis soothes him with his free hand, running them through Harry's unruly curls. Louis guides Harry's head down for a brief kiss, using the hand thats buried three fingers deep to coax Harry to draw his hips forward, hovering bodily over Louis' aching shaft.

Harry looks so good like this, all drawn up in anticipation as Louis make him hover over his dick, fingers still inside. Harry's straining against his restraints with his need to reach out and touch, neck glistening with sweat, making the leather of the collar shine.

Louis slips his fingers out of Harry's arse and kisses away Harry's whine. He spits in his hand and slicks his cock best he can, pressing the blunt head against Harry's loose rim. "Sit on it, love," Louis murmurs and Harry shudders, forcing his body down. He takes Louis with ease, prepped from the plug and slick with the come trapped inside. His hole stretches obscenely around the girth of Louis' erection, greedy for it.

"Louis,  _oh,_ " Harry breathes, rocking his hips in tight circles. He feels so full, wants to hurry and move against the thick cock inside him, but Louis hasn't told him he can yet. "Can I- Lou, can I move?"

"Y'wanna fuck yourself on my cock?" Louis asks and Harry nods, unashamedly. "Too bad, Harry."

"W-what?" Harry croaks, shaking with the effort to be still. His hips are still working in circles, cock nudging deep inside. Louis crooks an eyebrow at him, looking somewhat scandalized. He shakes his head, using the hand he still has in Harry's curls to yank his head down into the crook of his neck, lips brushing Harry's cheek when he speaks.

"You don't get to have control here, Harry," Louis says and, with that, rocks his hips up and grinds against Harry's arse, shoving his cock even deeper inside. The head manages to brush Harry's prostate and he mewls into the skin of Louis' neck.

Louis fucks him in long, smooth strokes, the position doing wonders for Harry's aching cock. It rubs roughly against Louis' belly every time Louis shoves inside, and it's not long before Harry's trembling with the need to come, but not sure if he's allowed to.

"Louis?" Harry squeaks, breaking of into a long moan when Louis pulls on his hair, fucking him quicker. Louis' balls slap perversely against the skin of his arse and Harry knows that the sound is only fueling the fucking - Louis likes their sex to be loud, whether it's with Harry's noises or obscene skin-on-skin.

"Yeah, baby?" Louis asks, voice tight like he's trying to hold off on giving up on speech all together in lieu of just moaning filthily as he wrecks Harry's arse.

"Am - am I allowed -"

"Do you wanna come, is that it?" Louis guesses and Harry nods. "Do you think you've earned it?" Harry nods again. "Yeah? Why?"

Harry swallows hard, hunching his shoulders. "I've been good," he says meekly, "I didn't come when you fucked me last night and - and I didn't touch this morning. I wanted - I wanted to touch so bad, Lou, but I didn't. I - I was good."

Louis purses his lips, as if mulling it over, hips still pistoning in and out. He licks his lips and nods at Harry and Harry nearly sags in relief. "Yeah, Haz, you  _were_  good for me. My good boy, yeah?"

"Yeah Lou, your good boy," Harry agrees, rutting shamelessly against Louis' stomach now that he knows he has permission. He lifts his head from the crook of Louis' neck, and his balls draw up tight to his body, his stomach furling in anticipation. "'M gonna come," Harry warns.

"Do it, Haz," Louis breathes. His hand drops from Harry's hair and closes around his hip with the other. He slams Harry down harder onto his cock, chasing his own relief. "Wanna see you come for me, then I'll come for you, yeah? Fill you up and put the plug in again and then you'll have two loads inside you, so much fucking come inside you -"

Harry climaxes with a shrieking cry, pushed over the edge by Louis' filthy words and the thought of being able to keep even more of Louis' come inside him, wondering what it's going to  _feel_  like and hoping that Louis will still give him more.

Harry's release splatters all over his and Louis' stomachs, streaking up so high that some catches Harry on the chin. His tongue darts out to lick it up and Louis groans, tossing his head back. His thrust speed up, hard and erratic and then Harry feels it flood inside of him, the heat of Louis' orgasm warming him all over.

Louis' hips putter and then stop moving completely, Harry still pressed down on his lap. Harry smiles shyly when Louis' eyes catch his, and Louis lifts his hand, swiping his fingers through the bit of come on Harry's chin that Harry hadn't been able to lick up. He pushes his fingers into Harry's mouth and Harry suckles then obediently, earning a coo and a "such a good boy," that makes his heart flutter just a bit.

"I was good?" Harry asks breathlessly and Louis gives a short little laugh.

"So good, baby," Louis says, kissing the side of Harry's head.

Louis stays deep inside of Harry until he's nearly completely soft again and Harry's a boneless mess of boy in his lap. He reaches out with one hand, fumbling for the plug where he'd set in on the couch after he'd pulled it from Harry's body. His fingers close around it and Louis gives a satisfied smile.

Harry only whines a bit when Louis urges him off his flaccid cock, knowing immediately that he'll be plugged up again. He feels dizzy, feels like he's floating in this surreal sort of subspace, and it's such a delicious sort of feeling that Harry wants to savor it forever.

The plug slides in easily, aided by the slick of Louis' come and the fact that Harry's actually gaping. It fits a little less snug than it did the last time but still snug enough to hold everything inside, and Harry has a moment where he wonders if he's ever going to be as tight as he used to be again by the time Louis' done with him.

He's not quite sure how he feels about that yet but, as he dozes in Louis' arms on the couch, he thinks that as long as Louis will keep fucking him like he does, Harry really doesn't care.

x

When Harry wakes up he's alone. He can hear Louis puttering in the kitchen doing who knows what because it's always Harry who does the cooking. Harry perks up, lifting his head from the cushion and swaying a bit at the headrush, calling out to Louis when his vision stops swimming. His arms ache from being in the cuffs for so long and he hopes in the back of his mind that he's been good enough that Louis will take them off.

Louis walks in from the kitchen with a dishtowel in his hands, grinning when he sees Harry wrapped up in the duvet on the couch, hands still bound and collar still snug around his neck. "Good afternoon, Hazza."

"Afternoon?" Harry frowns, craning his neck to look for the clock. It's just after one o'clock. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

Louis shrugs. "You earned it, love," he says simply, tossing the dishtowel haphazardly onto the back of the recliner. "You were so good." 

"Yeah?" Harry beams, basking in the praise.

"Mhm," Louis hums, crossing over to the couch and settling in next to Harry. He brushes a hand over where the duvet has fallen from Harry's shoulder, leaving it bare. "But."

"B-but?" Harry stammers, the brightness fading from his face. "I did something wrong?"

Louis offers Harry a small smile to ease the stress he can see curling Harry's lip. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I've just got something in mind I'd like for you to do for me."

"Anything," Harry is quick to say, already shifting to where he thinks Louis will want him. 

"Yeah?" Louis arches an eyebrow, holding back a smirk at how eager Harry is. He's always so eager, always so willing to take whatever Louis wants to give him or give up whatever Louis wants to claim. He's not always quite so submissive, though, only when Louis works to get him into that headspace, and Louis' apt to take advantage of that. He's still focused on his reasonings for doing what he's doing this week, how he's doing it for Harry's sake and not his own, but he'd be a fool if he didn't take advantage of the fact that, with the way he is now, Harry jumping to please Louis in any way Louis sees fit.

"Tell me what to do," Harry murmurs, curling in on himself in the duvet and looking up and Louis through his eyelashes. He looks ten years younger, hunched in on himself like that, and Louis feels oddly high.

"On you knees on the floor," Louis orders. Harry slips down without a word, awkwardly due to the way his hands are bound behind his back.  

Harry keeps his eyes downcast, focused on Louis' feet. He waits patiently for Louis to give him his next instructions, even though he's quite sure he knows what Louis' going to tell him to do.

Louis' leaning carelessly against the back of the couch, clad in nothing but his red topman briefs. Harry can see Louis' cock tenting the cotton out of his peripheral vision and he clenches around the plug he's still got deep inside, breath hitching when he remembers the way Louis' cock had felt in the same place just a few small hours ago. His thighs quake the tiniest bit as he waits for Louis to make his move, hands clenching sporadically behind his back.

Slowly, like he knows Harry's craving it, knows Harry's chomping at the bit for Louis to do something, Louis peels his briefs from his hips, dropping them down until they pool at his ankles. Harry licks his lips, clenching around the plug again. He can't help but give a little moan when the plug rubs snug against his prostate, moaning again when he feels Louis wind a hand in his hair and tug his head up, making Harry look him in the eye. 

"You're going to let me fuck your mouth," Louis states nonchalantly, like he was commenting on something completely insignificant, like the weather or the state of that rash Zayn's had for the last week or so. He sounds completely in control of himself and Harry bites his lip, wanting, waiting. "You're going to let me shove my whole cock down your throat. You're going to sit still and give me all the control and then when I'm done, you're going to let me come all over your pretty face. Understood?"

Harry nods frantically, lips parting eagerly already. He can't stop himself from moving his eyes from Louis' to stare down at Louis' cock, breath picking up into little panting gasps at the way it's straining against Louis' belly, foreskin tight over the head and so deep red, it looks painful. It makes Harry feel good to know that Louis seems to want this as much as he does.

Harry gasps loudly when Louis yanks harder against his curls, forcing Harry's eyes back up to his face. Louis' face is unreadable except for the tiny curl of his lip that lets Harry know that he's unhappy, and Harry gets an awful knot smack in the center of his chest. He can't take it when Louis' upset with him, especially when he's trying so hard to be good and do what Louis wants him to, and he gets this terrible sinking feeling deep inside the pit of his heart when he fails. All he wants is to please Louis, please him and make him happy, and when he can't even do that, he just wants to curl up and cry. 

"You know I love that you're so eager, Haz," Louis says and Harry flinches. Louis has a system for when he tells Harry what he's done wrong - a compliment and then the scolding, some positive to take away the weight of the negative - and Harry knows that the bad is coming next. Though he knows it can't be that bad, because of Harry had done something to truly get Louis' blood curdling Louis wouldn't even tell him - he'd just bend Harry over the nearest surface and paddle his arse until he was a screaming, sobbing mess, the skin of his arse cherry red and on fire. _Then_  Louis will tell Harry what he did wrong, in the midst of the tears and the sniffling and when Harry's finally calmed down enough Louis will fuck him, hard and fast, because even though they've never really said it out loud, Harry's punishments always get both of them so hard they can barely see straight.

"I love it, but there's a point where your eagerness turns into greediness, and you know what I've told you about that." Harry nods solemnly and Louis brushes a hand over his cheek, knowing Harry understands. "You've still just got to learn to take what I give you when I give it."

"I'm trying," Harry says, unable to help the way he nuzzles his cheek into Louis' palm. 

"I know, love," Louis breathes. "So good, always trying."

Harry preens under Louis' compliments, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Lou," Harry begs, voice taking on the slightest undertone of desperation. 

Louis drops his hand from Harry's hair but keeps the one cradling Harry's cheek. He wraps his hand around the base of his throbbing erection, hissing at the sensation. He scoots forward so his arse is perched on the edge of the couch cushion, and Harry is boxed in between his thighs. Louis taps the head of his cock teasingly against Harry's slick, swollen bottom lip, basking in the way Harry whines for it.

"Don't move," Louis orders and then he's pushing his dick into Harry's greedy mouth, groaning at the way Harry immediately lets him slide deep into his throat, whole body going lax as Louis rocks his cock shallowly between his lips.

Now, Harry's not the first person he's ever had suck his cock - he's had boyfriends and the sporadic girlfriend back when he was sixteen and still figuring out whether or not he really did like blokes and they'd all gone down on his some time or another, but none of them, not one, enjoyed it as much as Harry does.

Sure, they'd been enthusiastic with it and they'd all been pretty good, but Harry - Harry is in a whole other fucking league. Nobody Louis has ever had on his cock before had genuinely loved it as much as Harry does, nobody had ever opened their mouth and sucked him down like they were starving for it. Nobody had ever given him complete control over their mouth like Harry, let him hold their chin and fuck their face however he wanted to at that time of day.

But Harry  _does_ and it's amazing and he's got that fucking  _mouth_  and it all always has Louis on the verge of nutting in an embarrassingly quick amount of time, just like he is now.

He rocks his cock in and out between Harry's lips, thumb pressing into the hollows made in Harry's cheek when he sucks as Louis pulls back. He purposely thrusts in a bit rougher to hear Harry gag around him when he hits the back of his throat, keeps doing it to watch the way tears pool in the corners and spill down his bright red cheeks.

Heat pools in Louis' stomach, twisting around and making him feel deliciously tight inside. He pulls out from Harry's lips, groaning lowly at the way Harry whines. He's still got a hand in Harry's curls and he uses it to yank Harry's head back where he wants it, Harry's mouth falling open and lax almost on reflex. Louis figures it probably  _is_  a reflex, what with the way Harry's practically crafted for sucking cock, but he doesn't voice his pondering out loud. Maybe he'll say something about it later, when he's got Harry wrapped around him and floating in subspace and he feels like going another round. Or perhaps he'll mention it and then fuck Harry with the plug until Harry comes from nothing but the pressure on his prostate - he's decidedly satisfied with either option.

When Louis finally comes its with a twist at the base and a squeeze at the tip, pulling harshly on Harry's curls. Thick white ribbons splash over Harry lips and cheeks and chin, Harry's tongue darting out to draw what he can inside his mouth. He's got this dazed look on his face like he's not quite all there at the moment, like a part of his brain has been lost in subspace, and Louis bets that's exactly the case.

"God, you're dirty," Louis groans, dropping his hand from Harry's curls so that he can pull his briefs back up, hissing when his sensitive cock head catches against the cotton. 

"Yeah," Harry agrees. His voice is scratchy and so fucked out, strained, even. Louis chances a glance down between Harry's thighs, groaning the tiniest bit when he sees how hard Harry really is - cock a deep red, twitching against his thigh. He almost doesn't understand how Harry isn't begging to touch himself, isn't sobbing and crying against Louis' skin, pleading for Louis' permission. 

"Harry," Louis breathes, Harry's foggy, unfocused eyes locked on his face. Louis pats a hand against his thigh, "Come sit on my lap, darling."

Harry gets up - as quickly as he can manage with the state he is - crawling like a minx onto Louis' lap. He curls into Louis' chest and tucks his head under Louis' chin, purring contentedly when Louis strokes a hand down his back. His cock is pressing hot and hard an insistent into Louis' abdomen but Harry still doesn't say anything of it. 

"Baby," Louis purrs, tracing swirls into Harry's skin with his fingertips. "Harry, baby, are you hard?" Louis feels a bit silly asking when he can very clearly  _see_  that Harry is hard, so, so hard, but he knows that Harry himself won't bring it up unless Louis says something about it first.

Harry snuffs up a quick breath against Louis' skin and Louis can feel him nod, hesitant. "Why didn't you say anything, love?"

Harry shrugs. Louis frowns.

"Use words, please," Louis mutters, tugging sharply on the short hairs at the base of Harry's skull. 

Harry takes a breath, pausing for a moment. When he does speak, however, it's so quiet Louis has to strain to hear it: "Didn't want to be greedy."

Louis' breath catches for a second in his throat, deep adoration for the boy in his lap twisting and curling itself in his chest. "Yeah?" Louis says, stopping to clear his throat to rid it of the way it's gone scratchy. Harry nods again. "You wouldn't be greedy, baby, not if you asked nicely. You earned it."

Harry's fussing in Louis' lap now, teetering on the edge of wanting but not knowing if he  _can_ , and Louis can practically see the gears working in Harry's brain. "I didn't know," Harry whispers, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

"Never disappoint me," Louis says fervently, pressing a wet kiss to Harry's forehead. "Not when you're so good for me, get so hard just from letting me fuck your mouth."

Harry shivers bodily, whimpering into Louis' neck. "Yeah, 'm so hard," Harry breathes, lips wet against Louis' skin.

Slowly, deliberately, Louis drawls his hand down Harry's spine, stopping when his fingers dance just over Harry's arse. "You love it so much, don't you? Love it when I hold you hair and make you take it?"

"Mhm," Harry hums, gasping wetly when Louis drops his fingers lower, down to the crack of Harry's arse, pressing them roughly against the base of the plug. "Please," Harry begs, hips already working in tight little circles as Louis keeps a firm pressure on the plug.

"Tell me why you like it," Louis murmurs, rolling his fingers harder against the plug and making Harry mewl. 

"N-no, please," Harry protests.

"Tell me, or I'm going to stop," Louis warns. "Come on sweetie, don't be embarrassed. I just want to know why you like it so much."

"I -" Harry starts, licking nervously along his bottom lip. "I - I like how you make me give up control, I don't know - Louis,  _please_."

"I know you can do better than that," Louis deadpans. He tugs on the base of the plug until the thickest part slips out of Harry's arse before he shoves it back in, making Harry cry out, back arching in pleasure. His head lolls in the crook of Louis' neck, breathing in short, stuttering pants. "How about this: you tell me, and I'll touch your pretty cock, jerk you till you come? All you have to do is say it, baby, just say it."

Harry makes a desperate, aborted noise in the back of his throat. Louis can feel the heat of the flush on Harry's cheeks, burning against his neck. "I - I don't really know why I - I just - fuck, Louis, I like giving you control. I like how - how you just make me get on my knees and use me and I don't even have to think about it. I don't have to think about - about pleasing you because letting you use me is what pleases you. I just always wanna be - wanna be good for you."

Louis groans lowly, the hand that's not pushing against the plug dropping down to wrap around Harry's throbbing cock. Harry keens, not sure whether to push down against the plug or thrust up into Louis' fist. He settles for rocking precariously in Louis' lap, trying to do both and sort of failing miserably. 

"Keep going, keep talking," Louis demands. He's stripping Harry's cock so fast that it's almost painful, jerking Harry's foreskin hard up over the tip and down over the shaft. 

"I like when you talk me through it," Harry continues, rocking faster. "I like when you tell me I'm a good boy and - and when you hold me down and I - I gag on it-"

Harry cuts off with a piercing whine when Louis twists his hand  _just right_  and then he's coming, hot and wet all over Louis' fist and stomach. His lungs are burning with how hard he's breathing and his cock fucking  _hurts_ , Louis' fist still tugging at the oversensitive flesh. "Stop, stop, please, s'too much."

Thankfully Louis stops, opting to brush his hands against Harry's inner thighs instead. He rubs soothingly over the skin until Harry's stopped breathing in pants. He nudges Harry's hip and Harry lifts his head from Louis' shoulder, eyes spacey as he meets Louis'. He moves to wrap his arms around Louis' neck before remembering that they're cuffed behind his back and he frowns, making a dejected noise in the back of his throat.

"S'wrong?" Louis asks, petting Harry's shoulder.

"Cuffs," Harry states simply, still frowning. 

Louis nods, reaching around behind Harry to get to the cuffs. He fiddles around with the one locked on Harry's right wrist before there's a small click and the cuff falls away. Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

"Are you hungry, love?" Louis asks and Harry nods. He stretches a bit in Louis' lap, arching like a cat. "Get of me then, yeah? I'll make you an omelet."

"It's half-one in the afternoon," Harry says, sliding off of Louis lap, plopping onto the couch cushions, snuggling back up under the duvet. 

"And your point is?"

"It's too late for omelets."

Louis gasps in mock indignation. "It is  _never_  too late for omelets! And besides, it's the only thing I can cook without setting the flat on fire." And with that, Louis throws himself off of the couch, stretching with his arms above his head. His arse looks magnificent in his red briefs, and Harry shifts under the duvet, not wanting to start getting hard again so soon after he's just come. Not to mention the fact that Louis wouldn't exactly be happy if he did, either. 

Louis makes his way to bugger off into the kitchen but, right as he's at the edge of the archway of the living room, he turns around and gives Harry a contemplative look before he smirks and says, "Sit on the floor, love. I want you at my feet in case I get the sudden urge to fuck your mouth again, later." Then, without looking to see if Harry's done what he'd been told, Louis waltzes out of the living room like he hasn't a care in the world.

Wordlessly, Harry slips from the couch to the floor, shifting so that the plug doesn't feel so uncomfortable inside and crosses his legs when he finds a good position. He pops the other cuff of his left wrist, tosses it of into a random corner of the room. He folds his hands and sets them in his lap, and he waits diligently for Louis to come back.

x

Louis comes back whistling a nameless tune with two plates in his hands, smiling brightly when he sees Harry's position on the floor. Harry's head jerks up when he hears Louis comes in and he grins widely when he sees Louis' smile, happy that he's happy. 

"Well, well, look at you," Louis muses, bending down to give Harry his omelet. "Sitting all nice and pretty, just like I told you to."

"Course," Harry nods, poking at his omelet with a finger to test how hot it is. It doesn't burn him, so he picks up his fork and digs in. 

Louis flops down onto the couch right in front of where Harry's sitting on the floor, and he runs a hand coolly through Harry's curls. Harry gives a happy little purr. "How's the omelet, love?"

"S'good," Harry says around a mouthful. "Thanks, Lou."

"Welcome, darling," Louis coos, still petting through Harry's hair as he eats with his free hand. 

Harry, however, is finding in increasingly difficult to focus on eating when Louis' carding his fingers through his hair like he is, stopping every so often to scratch his blunt nails against Harry's scalp. It's taking everything in him to not just toss his omelet to the trash and grind himself to completion on Louis' lap because the way Louis is tugging on his curls  _does_  stuff to him. 

Harry's cock twitches against his thigh, already very much interested. Harry's trying so hard to ignore it, trying so hard just to eat his omelet and pretend like he's not chomping to just hop up and rut against Louis' thigh. 

His breath hitches when Louis gives a particularly hard tug, and when Louis laughs it hits him - Louis' doing this  _on purpose_. It's a test, a test to see if Harry's got the self control to sit still and silent and just eat, and it doesn't even come as a shock to Harry when he decides that he's going to fail.

"Louis," Harry whimpers, pushing his plate of half-eaten omelet onto the floor beside him. His cock is semi-hard against his thigh and steady filling with every brush of Louis' fingers on his scalp. Louis makes a tsk-ing noise in the back of his throat.

"Why don't you go take a nice shower, hmm?" Louis suggests, pulling his hand from Harry's curls. Harry barely stops himself from whining. "You're quite a mess, love, you need it."

Harry gets up with a grunt and a sigh, trying to ignore the throbbing between his legs. His cock is hard from Louis' petting and the plug is still rubbing him in all the right places and he wonders if torture is what Louis' going for today. He knows he's not going to be able to jerk off in the shower lest he want to face punishment, and he finds himself going a bit frantic because he needs to touch - he  _needs_  to - and Louis' curling his lip again and Harry just wants to go into the shower and crawl up in a ball and cry because he just  _can't_.

"Go on, then," Louis says when Harry's on his feet, and Harry trudges off in the direction of the bathroom without another sound, feeling utterly like he's lost.

x

As it turns out, Harry only has to feel like that for five minutes because it only takes five minutes before Harry feels the shower curtain opening and Louis steps in, wrapping his hands around Harry's waist from behind. His fingers brush up Harry's side and Harry swallows hard when those fingers pop the clasp on his collar, tossing it out on the other side of the shower curtain.

They don't speak, not a word. They go by the way Louis brushes his lips over Harry's shoulder blade and Harry arches his back, falling forward and bracing his arms on the shower wall. 

They go by the way Harry whines when Louis pulls the plug out and moans when he replaces it with his cock, picking up a steady rhythm that has Harry keening, high-pitched and desperate.

Louis doesn't whisper dirty words into Harry's ear as he rocks in and out of Harry's tight body; he just rewards Harry with soft kisses over the damp skin of his back, just pets Harry's hip and wraps a fist around Harry's cock. 

It doesn't take long for Harry to come, crying out and spilling over Louis' fingers before the stream of the shower washes it away. Louis comes barely a minute after, rutting against Harry's arse. He breaks their silence with soft murmurs of "Good boy, you're such a fucking good boy, Harry, make me come so hard," that make Harry eyes roll back, body twitching with over-sensitivity.

Harry shudders when Louis pulls out and presses the familiar plug back inside of him, feeling so full and so fucking  _good_ , so much come held inside of him. Louis putters around a bit under the stream of the shower head before he flicks the lever and the shower stream turns into a flood from the faucet, steadily filling up the basin with steaming water. Harry turns to face him, a homely smile on his lips.

"Would you like to take a bath with me, darling?" Louis asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer.

"Of course," Harry says, already sinking into the pleasant water. 

Louis snorts fondly, sitting down himself and pulling Harry into him, back-to-chest. The water isn't that high yet, barely pooling over their hips, but it's warm and Harry is cuddly and it's much more than enough.

The faucet bubbles on, filling the tub with water until the level is at their chests. Louis turns the faucet off, unable to resist sinking down, dragging his and Harry's bodies into the water until is covers their shoulders.

"Lou?" Harry asks dreamily, tracing patterns on Louis' thigh under the water.

"Hmm?" Louis hums. He feels boneless, the hot water seeping through his skin and into his bones and making him feel oddly like a jellyfish - it's not unpleasant. 

"Will you wash my hair for me?" Harry questions, turning a bit in Louis' arms to look at his face. 

"Sure, baby," Louis agrees, already reaching for Harry's favorite strawberry-scented shampoo. It's the No-More-Tears brand that L'Oreal makes for children, Louis buying it on accident one time and Harry decided he actually liked it because it made his curls super soft and didn't sting his eyes if he happened to get it in them.

Louis works the shampoo through Harry's curls with sure fingers, basking in the way Harry coos and purrs in content. Louis sometimes gets this crazy idea that Harry'd been a kitten in a previous life and hadn't been able to completely shed the kitten-like behaviors as a human in this life. Crazy, really, but it's the best he's come up with to explain how Harry has the ability to legitimately  _purr_.

Louis washes the suds out with handfuls of water, washing his own hair quickly once he's finished with Harry. He nudges Harry from the water and flicks the stopper that plugs the drain, letting the water start to drain out as he dunks his head under. 

Harry's wrapped up in his huge, fluffy bathrobe when Louis comes back up. He's holding a towel out for Louis and Louis takes it, standing up in the tub and wrapping it around his waist. He steps out with a kiss to Harry's cheeks and Harry hums, threading his fingers shyly between Louis'. Louis gives his hand a little squeeze, and Harry preens.

Louis walks them into the bedroom, pushing Harry gently towards the bed. Harry sits, shifting until he's comfortable, just watching as Louis drops his towel and rummages through the dresser. He turns back to Harry once he's got a pair of briefs on and Harry crooks and eyebrow, cocking his head towards the dresser. It's a question Louis doesn't need him to elaborate on.

"I think I'm going to keep you naked, love," Louis says, turning his back again and fishing through the walk-in closet this time. He pulls that wonderful white scoop neck tee that Harry loves so much off the hanger and slip it over his head. 

"Can I have socks, at least?" Harry asks. Louis chuckles, opening the top drawer, tossing a pair of Harry's black socks to Harry on the bed. Harry curls up so that he can slip the socks on his feet, wincing when then position makes the plug shift. 

The bed dips and Harry looks up from his sock-business to see Louis just staring it him, like he's evaluating. His eyebrows shoot up and he breathes, "Your collar," and his fingers reach up to trace the bare skin of Harry's neck. 

Harry swallows, reaching up to touch for himself, only taking a second to decide that he doesn't like the way he feels without it. He feels out of place, almost like he's going to float away, and he needs the collar to anchor himself down. "Bathroom," Harry chirps quickly. "You took it off in the shower -"

Louis shoots up off the bed, jogging into the bathroom. He feels stupid, stupid that he could've forgotten, forgotten not only that he's taken the collar off but also that he'd left it off, slipping up in the hold he had on Harry enough that he could feel the shift in the atmosphere. He wonders if Harry's caught it, too.

The collar is laying flat on the tiles next to the shower, almost like a beacon, drawing Louis' attention straight to it. It feels hot in his hand when his fingers close around the leather. He tightens his fist around it, jogging back into the bedroom where Harry is still perched on the bed, right where Louis'd left him.

Harry's whole expression changes when Louis draws the collar around his neck again, snapping the clasp shut. His breathing slows to an almost lethargic pace and Louis' own stops for a split second because that - that was the shift he'd felt. 

Taking the collar off of Harry, as insignificant as it'd been, had been enough to change Harry's whole headspace for the short amount of time it'd been off. Louis' control over him had slipped. 

Louis should've known something'd shifted when Harry'd gone and asked for socks when Louis told him he was going to stay naked. Louis had paid it barely any attention, chalking it up to Harry's poor circulation, and it hadn't even occurred to Louis that, if Harry was in the space Louis'd had him in before, he wouldn't have asked for socks at all, cold feet or not be damned.

But now, with the collar secured tight around the pale column of his throat again, Harry is back where Louis wants him, all cloudy-eyed and rosy-cheeked and wonderfully submissive to the point where he won't meet Louis' eyes unless Louis tells him to. Louis'd never thought that, when he'd bought it, the collar would have such a massive effect on Harry's psyche. It makes him feel lightheaded, makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the feeling of holding all of the power in the world. He wants to test it, test  _how much_  power he has, and he thinks he knows exactly how to do it.

He just needs one more thing, one thing that had been just an aisle across from the one where he'd bought the plug.

Louis drags a finger up Harry's bare chest, watching with wonder at the goosebumps that rise in its wake. He presses it under Harry's chin, making Harry meet his eyes again. "Come with me to the living room, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," Harry breathes. He slides off the bed, shaky on his legs, and Louis offers him a hand. Harry winds his fingers with Louis', his face still blank, spacey.

Louis leads Harry from the bedroom to the living room, urging him down on the couch. Harry sits without a word, curling up in a ball against the arm.

"Listen, Haz," Louis says, "I've got to go run an errand or two, and I won't be back until late." Harry nods, still staring dutifully up at Louis. "I want you to do something for me while I'm gone."

"Anything," Harry murmurs. Louis gives a sly smile.

"I want you to get yourself off for me while I'm gone," Louis says and watches as Harry shudders bodily. Louis rarely ever gives him permission to get himself off when Louis' not around to watch him, and Harry's fists clench at the opportunity. "On one condition."

"Anything," Harry repeats, perked up in interest and so, so eager to please.

"You've got to do it by my rules, alright?" Louis says. "I want you to come four time, 'kay, Haz? First you're going to jerk your pretty cock until you bust, and then you're going to finger your tight little hole until you come again, understand? And no touching your cock while you do - I want you to come untouched for me. And after that you're gonna fuck yourself with your vibrator and come for me  _again_ , and then when when your cock is so sore and sensitive you're going to jerk it until you're screaming. Do you think you'll come dry, baby? I'd really love it if you came dry."

Harry's staring at him with wide, frantic eyes by the time he's done, gnawing on his bottom lip until it's an obscene, cherry red. His face is flushed so dark, chest rocketing up and down with the speed of his breathing. His fists are white-knuckled against his thighs and he's shifting around like he can't get comfortable. His cock is standing flushed and hard against his belly, already so ready to get started. 

Louis runs his hand over Harry's bare shoulder and Harry whines. "Guess what else, Harry?" Louis teases. "You're going to video tape yourself every time you get off and send it to me so I can see what a desperate, slutty mess you are. I expect four videos by the time I get home, and if I don't get all four, you're going to be punished. Understand? And make sure you put your plug back in when you're finished."

Harry whimpers, nodding. Louis grins, bending down to drop a kiss into Harry's curls. "I'll be off now, then," Louis says, turning and grabbing his keys out of the glass bowl on the coffee table. He slips his shoes on in the foyer and then he's off.

He hears Harry jumping off the couch and scampering off towards the bedroom, and Louis licks his lips. He's in for quite the treat.

x

Louis gets the first video five minutes into his drive, pulling into the car park of a random drug store so he can watch. 

Harry's propped the his phone up on the bedside table so they angle's awkward and sideways, but Louis can still see everything. Harry is sprawled out on top of the duvet, all long limbs and hard cock, fist wrapped tightly around it. His other hand is twisting harshly around his nipple, teasing it as he jerks his cock in a way that looks almost painful.

The video itself is only thirty-two seconds long, and Harry actually comes around the twenty-five second mark, Louis' name on his lips. His come spurts all the way up his neck and Louis groans to himself. He must've been so turned on, so desperate to have come so hard and so fast, and Louis finds himself shoving his phone into his pocket and peeling out of the parking lot, more eager than ever to get to where he's going and buy what he needs to buy.

x

Louis gets the next two videos when he's parking his car against the sidewalk across from where he needs to be, one after the other in quick succession. He doesn't bother watching them, not yet, just saves them to his phone with the promise that he'll watch them when he's done.

The shop is located in a shady town a couple hours outside of London, nestled inconspicuously between two equally shady pubs. The shop itself is nothing but a black facade with a glowing pink neon sign that reads  _open,_ nothing else to distinguish it as what it is. The only people who know that the sex shop is there are those who'd been referred by friends, and Louis himself had found out about it through Nick when he'd asked if Nick knew any places of the sort somewhere Louis could go where he wouldn't be swamped by the paps. 

Louis throws on a beanie and Raybans for good measure, getting out of the car and locking the door. He doesn't bother looking both ways when he crosses the street because this part of town is always completely dead until eleven at night, when all the clubs and bars start opening.

A small bell rings above the door when Louis walks in but the girl at the register doesn't even both looking up, too absorbed in the magazine she's reading.

Louis doesn't waste any time, heading straight to the aisle with the BDSM gear. He goes to the back of the aisle where there's a rather large display of paddles and whips and floggers, and he picks up one of the shiny wooden paddles, turning it over in his hand.

He swings it a couple times for good measure, trying to picture how it'd look smacking against the pale skin of Harry's arse. He imagines it'd look wonderful, dark wood contrasting with the white of skin and then with the red as Harry's arse slowly began to change color, almost the same rosy-red as his lips.

Louis swings the paddle one more time before he decides that he's definitely going to get it, waltzing up to the checkout where the employee is still absorbed in her magazine. Louis clears his throat and she looks up, snapping her gum. Louis sets the paddle on the checkout counter and she raises her eyebrow at him, nonetheless grabbing the paddle and ringing it up, dropping it into that familiar black bag and handing it over. Louis hands her the necessary cash and he's on his way, almost skipping in anticipation as he gets back to his car.

Louis tosses the bag into the passenger seat grabs his phone out of his pocket, grinning when he sees that Harry's sent him the final video. There's a text along with it and Louis groans when he reads it.  _Came dry like u wanted me 2, lou cant wait 4 u to get home xxxx_  it says and Louis' mind is flooded with images of Harry alone, sprawled out on their bed and coming completely dry, cock twitching and lurching but nothing coming out. It gets Louis so hot under the collar, eager to get home to Harry but it's already half-eight at night and it takes two hours just to get back into London and another half to get to the flat, and he knows Harry's bound to be asleep by the time he gets home. 

So he settles for going into his phone and watching the videos Harry sent him. He watches them in order, watches Harry finger himself to orgasm with one hand working inside of himself and the other clenched in the bed sheets, coming with barely a dribble or two down the shaft of his cock. The next video is even better, Harry with his back to the camera as he bounces on the dark blue silicon dildo Louis'd bought him for their anniversary. He holds the toy with one hand and his cock with the other, turning to stare at the camera over his shoulder when he comes with a groan of  _Louis, fuck!_

The last video is the best out of all of them; Harry spread out on the duvet like he'd been in the first one, hand on his cock. The video is the shortest out of the four and Louis suspects it's because Harry's so fucking oversensitive from having come three times already. Harry's giving these pathetic little sobs as he jerks his cock and Louis' so fucking hard in his jeans, watching as Harry chokes on a moan and comes completely dry, arching like something out of the Exorcist.

Louis shuts his phone off and tosses it onto the seat with the bag, putting the key in the ignition and starting the car. He adjusts himself with his free hand as he pulls away from the sidewalk shoulder, having more dignity than to jerk off in his car in some ridiculously shady town that he doesn't even know the name of. He can wait till he gets home, wake Harry up even if he's sleeping and get him to suck him off.

He doesn't end up needing to wake Harry up, though, his erection having gone away during the two-and-a-half hour drive. Louis' honestly not in the mood for anything as he parks the car and grabs the bag and his phone, pressing the button on his keys to automatically lock the car doors. The door of the flat's not locked and Louis doesn't know if he should be happy or angry that Harry hadn't had the sense to lock it, but they live in a nice neighborhood with no threats of B-and-E, so he figures he can't be all that miffed.

Louis kicks his shoes off in the foyer and makes his way to the bedroom, opening the door slowly and tip-toeing to the closet to stash the paddle, making sure he's quiet enough not to wake up Harry, who's bundled up in the duvet, the room stinking of sex and sweat. 

He sheds his shirt and trousers and crawls into bed, wrapping his arms around Harry from behind. There's come still crusted on Harry's belly and Louis wrinkles his nose, mentally berating Harry for not cleaning himself up. He's going to get a rash like he did the last time he let himself sleep with come crusted on his tummy and Louis' really not in the mood to have to listen to Harry complain nonstop about how itchy he is for four days straight again.

Louis sighs and gets out of bed again, grumbling as he walks into the en suite and wets a flannel under the sink, wringing it out and flicking the light. 

Harry grumbles when Louis rolls him onto his back and tugs the duvet down enough to expose his belly, one eye cracking open the tiniest bit. "Lou?" He asks sleepily, blinking his bleary eyes. 

"You fell asleep with come dried on you, Harry," Louis scolds gently, running the flannel over Harry's abdomen. "You know what happened the last time."

"'M sorry," Harry mumbles, "I was just so exhausted from - from, y'know. I didn't think. Just fell asleep."

Louis hums, understanding. "You did so well, baby boy," Louis praises and Harry still preens, even in his half-conscious state. "You looked so sexy, getting yourself off for me. Saved all your videos to my phone so I can watch them over and over again."

"Yeah?" Harry asks, voice thick with sleep. "You liked them?"

"Loved them, darling," Louis says, wiping the last bit of come from Harry's tummy. "Almost had to jerk myself off in the car."

Harry shudders, curling in on himself a bit. "I came dry," he says as Louis gets up to toss the flannel into the hamper in the bathroom. "Just like you said you wanted."

Louis smiles as Harry when he walks back into the bedroom, walking round to his side of the bed and slipping back under the duvet. "I know you did, baby," he says, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist again. He tucks the duvet back over their shoulders, nuzzling the back of Harry's neck. "So proud of you. And I bought you something special, think you're gonna love it."

"'M gonna love it," Harry agrees, barely conscious in Louis' arms. 

"Go to sleep, baby," Louis orders gently, pressing kisses on the knobs of Harry's spine. "Got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Mmm," Harry hums, slumping back into Louis' chest. It's barely even a minute before his little snores fill the room, his nose whistling that way it does when he's sleeping really deeply.  _Good_ , Louis thinks,  _he's going to need the rest._

Louis takes a deep breath and tucks his face into the crook of Harry's neck. Harry smells like sweat and come and it's oddly calming; Louis' asleep in minutes.

x                         

Louis wakes up to a prodding at his chest, a constant  _poke-a-poke-a-poke_ and he groans, batting at whatever's bugging at him so early in the morning. A peek to the bedside clock shows that it's actually almost twelve-thirty in the afternoon, but who's actually keeping track, right?

"Lou," he hears Harry whine beside him and it's like magic how instantly Louis' awake.

"Y'alright, love?" Louis asks concernedly. 

Harry shrugs his shoulders, twitching a little like he doesn't know whether to nod or shake his head. "'M leaking," he says after a minute or two and Louis sucks in a breath.  _Oh_.

"Why? How? Did you leave the plug out?" Louis' brow furrows, reaching around Harry to feel. Sure enough there's wet between his cheeks and on his thighs but the plug's still inside and Louis gasps, realizing. "Oh god, baby, 's cause you're gaping."

"W-what?" Harry scrabbles back with his own hands, trying to feel around where Louis is. "I'm - I'm what?"

"You're gaping," Louis repeats. "You're so loose and open that it's taking a while for you to tighten back up again. The plug doesn't even fit right anymore."

"I don't like it, Lou, I don't like it," Harry whimpers, swatting Louis' fingers away from his arse and pressing his own over his hole and the plug, trying to swipe up the come that'd already managed to drip out. "I want it inside, it's not staying inside -"

"Shh, shh," Louis soothes, running a hand through Harry's curls and scratching at his scalp. "It's alright if it drips out, baby. I can always give you more."

Harry whines, still trying to shove the come back inside. "Harry, stop it." Louis growls, grabbing Harry's forearm and forcefully yanking his fingers away from his arse. "You're being greedy again, Harry. You just don't understand, do you?"

"I - I can't -"

"I'm going to have to punish you, baby," Louis sighs. Harry whimpers, curling in on himself. "I've told you so many times, Harry, but you're still so greedy. I've got no other choice," Louis throws the duvet off of himself and adds, "Bend over the end of the bed, please, Harry."

Louis rolls out of bed, smiling wickedly to himself. This couldn't have worked out any better, he thinks. He hadn't originally bought the paddle for punishment purposes, having purchased it because of how the last time Harry'd begged Louis to spank him while they were fucking he'd also let it slip how much he'd love for Louis to paddle him some time ( _"So hard I can't sit down for days without thinking about you, fuck, want it so bad,"_ ), and now, with Harry spread out on the end of the bed and shaking with anticipation, it's the perfect time to see how much Harry  _really_  wanted the paddle.

Louis traipses over to the closet and fishes around until he pulls out the bag with the paddle inside, and he hears Harry gasp when he pulls the paddle out. Louis swings it a couple times in hand before turning to face Harry, who's panting and squirming and clenching his fists in the duvet.  _Wonderful_ , Louis thinks, stalking over to Harry like a predator.

"Do you like what I bought you, Harry?" Louis asks condescendingly, dragging the cool wood of the paddle over Harry's hot skin. 

"You remembered," Harry breathes, arching into the sensation. 

"Course," Louis says, pushing the paddle between Harry's arse cheeks. Harry gasps when the paddle pushes against the plug, jerking it up into his prostate. "I always remember," Louis licks his lips, pulling the paddle from Harry's arse. "Like I remember that right now, you're supposed to be getting punished."

And with that, Louis pulls his arms back and then swings it forward, the paddle connecting with the Harry's pert ass in the most satisfying smacking sound Louis has ever heard. 

Harry cries out, a sort of choked, desperate little sound, jerking away from the stinging in his backside. It hurts, it hurts so much but at the same time it feels so fucking  _good_ , makes his brain go all good-fuzzy and he feels like he's _this close_  to slipping under.

Another smack rings loud and clear in the silence of the room and Harry keens, thrashing against the bed. He can feel himself slipping with every smack Louis lays on his arse, feels himself going  _underunderunder_ , deeper than he ever has before.

"More, more," Harry begs, voice sounding hollow. Louis is absolutely throttling him now, a steady  _smack!smack!smack!_  against the glaringly-red skin of Harry's arse.

Harry feels like he's floating, feels like all of his limbs have detached from his body and his head is so foggy and the only thing he can process is  _moremoremore_. He can't even hear his own voice anymore, can't hear anything at all except for the sharp smacking of the paddle on his arse and he thinks it should scare him but he feels so utterly blissed out, and he just wants Louis to hit him harder and harder and harder.

There's a moment, Harry thinks, where he feels his last bit of himself slip, and it's that last bit that he always has to hold on to when he's under to make sure he doesn't completely lose himself. It's never happened to him before but he's read about it, about how some subs will go so far under that they can't bring themselves back for hours or, in the worst cases,  _days_. 

Harry's never truly fallen into subspace before - he's been right on the edge of it, yes, close enough that he feels warm and fuzzy and floaty for a long time after the scene has finished, but far enough away that he can still keep sense of himself - but he knows right when it happens that it's  _happened_  and he wants to speak, wants to tell Louis that he needs to stop, but he can't even remember how to make his lips move, how to get the bubbles of air in his throat to form words. 

But no, no, he is talking, isn't he? He can feel it, he can feel the vibration of the words as they escape his lips, but god, what is he saying? He can't - he doesn't  _know_ , can't even hear the words passed the blood rushing in his ears, over the smacking of the paddle against his arse. He thinks on a whim that he's saying  _harder, harder_ and his arse is absolutely on fire, but he can't find dig himself out of the fog in his brain long enough to think of the words he needs to say, the words he needs to tell Louis it's too much. It's scary, scary because he can't think, can't speak, can't stop himself from falling deeper, scary because he doesn't want to stop himself.

It's good, so fucking _good_ , so good that it scares him. He feels it, feels it in every inch of his body, feels it as he breaks off from himself and loses all sense of coherency. 

Louis feels it the second Harry lets go.

All of Harry's sounds cut off, and the room is dropped into an eerie, scary silence. Harry's not moving, having gone completely lax and just laid there, no words, no sounds to tell Louis why.

"Shit, shit, Harry," Louis curses, tossing the paddle. It lands with a thump in some random corner of the bedroom. 

Louis nearly leaps onto the bed, picking Harry up and gathering him into his arms. He grabs Harry's jaw to that he can look at his face, breath catching shakily when he sees how foggy and unfocused Harry's eyes are. He looks completely fucking  _lost_ , like he's stranded in the dark and he's got no hope of finding a way out. There's fear in his eyes but it's masked by ethereal bliss written all over the rest of Harry's face. 

Louis can see it, clear as day: Harry's gone, Harry's  _flying_.

Louis' researches this, knows that what Harry's lost in now is real, full-on subspace, not just the floaty-for-days thing he gets that Louis likes to  _call_  subspace.

No, this is real, this is  _full-on_ , and Louis' kicking himself for not having realized it sooner. 

He should've seen the signs, should've known what was happening when Harry'd stopped speaking coherent words and started babbling in what Louis was sure was a completely made-up language. They've never talked about this because Louis' never let it happen before, never let Harry get to that point where he completely slips through Louis' fingers, and Louis starts to panic. 

Louis pinches himself  _hard_ , cursing himself because he can't fucking lose it, too. He remembers one of the bits he'd researched about how to get a sub out of subspace, remembers how it said that he should pet and soothe and watch for signs that Harry's coming back to him, keep talking and asking Harry simple questions, like if Harry remembers what his favorite color is.

"Harry? Harry, baby, can you hear me?" Louis coos, tangling up the fingers of Harry's left hand with his. "Squeeze if you can hear me, baby."

Harry's fingers flutter weakly before squeezing hard, and Louis breathes a sigh of relief. "That's it, love, come on back to me."

It takes a couple more minutes of coos and petting before Harry can speak again, and even then it's only a word or two at a time. The first word he speaks is "Lou?" and Louis has to laugh. "Yeah, Hazza, 'm here."

"I'm me?" Harry asks, so much slower than normal.

"Are you?" Louis asks, petting a hand through Harry's curls. "Can you tell me what day it is?"

"Saturday?" Harry guesses. "No, no, Sunday. Sunday?"

"Good, baby, good," Louis praises. "How about what you ate for dinner last night? Can you tell me that?"

"Omelets," Harry answers immediately. "You made omelets. Then you fucked me in the shower."

Louis laughs out loud, an obnoxious cackle that he can't help. "Yeah, princess, I did," Louis scratches lightly at Harry's scalp, grinning at the way Harry purrs. "How do you feel, baby? Are you all there?"

"Mmm, think so," Harry muses. "Feel fuzzy. Good-fuzzy. 'M green." Harry grins, dropping his head into the crook of Louis' neck.

"Is green good?" Louis asks. They don't have a color system, just use two generic safewords, but Louis knows that Harry's read up on being a submissive, so perhaps he'd picked up the colors through that. 

"Green's good," Harry confirms. "Green's fuzzy, green's good. Fuzzy, fuzzy like grass. Like that soft grass that you played your charity footie game on, remember? D'you remember?"

Louis snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I remember. Fell on my arse on it too many times to forget."

"Y'didn't fall," Harry sniffs. "Y'were so good. So sexy."

"Yeah?" Louis hums. "Know you said you liked my shorts."

"Your bum looked phenomenal," Harry says and Louis knows that he's back now, if he's able to banter right back and use words like  _phenomenal_.

"Thanks, love," Louis says. His brow furrows for a moment, considering, before he asks, "So what was it like? Going under that far?" 

"Scary, at first," Harry says, frowning a bit. "Cause I didn't know what was happening, I think. I couldn't speak or move or anything, at least not by my own will."

"You were babbling all of this ridiculous nonsense and squirming all over the place," Louis supplies. Harry looks a bit shocked.

"I - I really had no idea," Harry admits. "But then like, I got over the scary part and I just started like,  _floating_. Everything felt so good and I felt like - like I was out of my body or something. And I think - I think that was when you stopped?"

"You collapsed," Louis says, taking a shaky breath. "I thought I'd hurt you."

"Far from it," Harry assures him. "I felt so good. I've never - never felt like that before. Kinda miss it, actually."

"We'll have to see if we can get you there again," Louis nods. "But after we've looked into it. I don't want to hurt you, ever. I don't want you ever hurting because of me."

Harry leans up to press quick kisses on the underside of Louis' jaws and Louis sighs in content. "'M'hungry," Harry murmurs against the skin of Louis' neck. "Can you make omelets again?"

Louis shakes his head fondly, nuzzling Harry's sweat-damp hair. "You want the works?" 

Harry nods, whining a little when Louis pushes him off his lap. He winces when the tender skin of his arse rubs against the duvet, and then whining when he feels more wetness drip out down his thighs. 

Louis' already frying up the omelets in the pan by the time Harry wanders out into the kitchen, face creased in displeasure. "What's wrong, love?" Louis asks, concern creasing his brow as he tosses some diced peppers into the pan.

"Still leaking," Harry pouts, sitting down gingerly on one of the kitchen chairs. Louis sighs. 

"Can't help that," Louis says, putting it simply. He folds over the omelet in the pan and lets it sizzle a bit before he scoops it up and drops it onto the plate, turning the stove top off and bringing the plate to Harry. Harry's still pouting when Louis slides the plate in front of him, but the pout has absolutely no weight at all with how calmly blissed Harry's whole face still is. 

Harry takes the fork Louis offers him and cuts into the omelet, licking his lips at the smell. He scratches absentmindedly at the collar and Louis swallows hard, like he'd actually forgotten the collar was there. He shakes his head and takes the seat across from Harry, thrumming his fingers on the tabletop. "We'll have to take your plug out, give you some time to tighten up again."

Harry nods, stuffing more of the omelet into his mouth. "When I'm tight again, you'll give me more?"

"Of course, love," Louis says. "Know how much you love it." 

"Can you take the plug out now?" Harry asks hesitantly, refusing to meet Louis' eyes. "So - so that I can get it sooner?"

Louis has to fight the urge to narrow his eyes. "Harry."

"'M sorry," Harry breathes. "I just - want it so much."

Louis purses his lips, musing. "I'll make you a deal, alright?" He says and Harry nods immediately. "Come here and suck me off like a good boy, and after I come I'll take your plug out, yeah?"

Harry doesn't answer, opting instead to leave his omelet on the plate half eaten, crawling on all fours around the table to get to where Louis is sitting. He sits to the side like he expects Louis to turn in his chair but Louis shakes his head, motioning with his hand for Harry to get  _under_  the table. 

Harry goes without an ounce of protest, slipping under the table and ducking his head awkwardly. Louis pets his face in praise and Harry preens, fluffing up like he's one of the swallows he's got printed on his chest. 

Louis shucks his pants down his hips - already half hard and steadily thickening against his thigh - and lets Harry wrap his hand around the base. Harry licks his pretty pink lips, wrapping them around the tip of Louis' cock, and that's that.

x

By the time Louis' dragging Harry to bed on Sunday night, he's plaint and happy and fluffy and Louis' the one preening this time because his little plan had worked perfectly. 

After Harry'd sucked him off at the kitchen table, Louis'd made good on his promise and took the plug out of Harry's loose body. Harry had whined like a kicked puppy and so Louis'd tucked four fingers inside of him, throwing his legs around his waist and carrying him into the sitting room. 

He'd let Harry prop his hips up precariously in his lap in a vain attempt to keep whatever come that was still stuffed up inside from leaking out. Louis let Harry nap for a few hours while he watched The Avengers, rubbing absentminded circles on the insides of Harry's bruised thighs. 

Louis woke Harry up around three, kissed away Harry's sleepy protests, and then fingered him to a messy orgasm with the excuse that he was checking how if Harry was tight enough to put the plug in again. 

He fucked Harry with Harry's legs thrown open like a cheap whore, yanking hard on the collar when he came. He hadn't even needed to touch Harry's cock, Harry having come from the feeling of Louis coming and filling him up alone. Louis hadn't waited to pull out this time, plugging Harry up right after he'd worked through his orgasm. He made Harry stand up of jelly legs to test the plug's fit and Harry's keened with happiness when it'd fit snug again, keeping Louis' come locked up inside like he'd wanted so desperately after losing it before.

Later, after Louis'd fucked Harry over the kitchen table and against the wall and again in the shower, he'd called up Zayn and Niall and Liam, invited them to dinner on the pretense that he missed them. Zayn and Niall didn't question it, just agreed right away, but Liam'd snorted as he said, "Really, Lou? You just saw us all on Friday." He'd caved as soon as Louis convinced him that  _yes, he did fucking miss them even though he'd seen then all just Friday_ , Liam giving a fond sigh and saying he'd be over at five.

Louis didn't let Harry get dressed passed his briefs the whole time the guys were over, smiling every time they sent him a weird look, a crooked eyebrow that said  _seriously, Lou?_  replying with a shrug that shoved the criticism under the rug.

The boys left around eleven after things got a bit weird with Harry crawling all over Louis with a wet spot on the arse of his briefs, Harry whining about how  _it's happening again, Lou, leaking **again**_ , politely excusing themselves and saying they'd see Harry and Louis tomorrow bright and early for another tour rehearsal.

Louis laid Harry out right on the couch and fucked him with his knees to his shoulders, bent in half with the knobs of his spine protruding like some sort of skeletal beauty. He'd made Harry hold the same position while he licked his come right out of Harry's arse, Harry begging and mewling and coming, managing to come on his own face.

By the time Louis'd cleaned them both up and got Harry off the couch to go to bed it was nearly midnight, and Harry was struggling just to stay up on his feet. His hole was a sore, puffy red mess and he could barely walk. It took them five minutes just to make the walk from the sitting room to their bedroom, Louis laying Harry down against the pillows with a tender gentleness, curling himself around Harry's lean back.

They're laying in bed, back to chest. Harry's breathing has evened out and Louis knows he's almost asleep, having been worked over in one day more than he'd been in a week and completely exhausted from it all.  

Slowly, so that Harry doesn't catch on, Louis lifts his hand and brings it to the metal clasp of Harry's collar, flicking with his fingers so the clasp opens and the collar falls away, splaying open on the pillow. "Lou," Harry breathes, shuddering when Louis pulls the collar out from under his neck. 

"Shh," Louis coos, throwing the collar onto the bedside table. He brings a hand up to Harry's curls, combing through them and drinking in Harry's content little sigh. "Love you," he murmurs, kissing the tiny red ridge the collar'd left on the back of Harry's neck.

"Love you back," Harry hums, snuggling deeper into the bed and Louis' arms. It only takes a minute or two for his snores to start up, his nose whistling every time he breathes out.

Louis takes a deep breath, breathing in the sweet scent of Harry's skin. He smells like vanilla and cinnamon and sweaty boy, and it's intoxicating. He's pliant and floaty and warm in Louis' arms, and Louis finds himself ridiculously happy that he's the one who's made Harry this way.

It makes him feel good, knowing that Harry trusts him so much that he'll give himself up to Louis completely, trusts him enough to know that Louis' never going to let him drop. It makes him feel good, having Harry's long body cuddled up against the front of his, knowing Harry's safe and warm and content.

It's with those thoughts that Louis falls asleep, Harry a solid, lovely weight in his arms. 


End file.
